In Memory Of A Loving Mother

A day has not gone by when I don't think of you.
Do you think I am telling a lie? My Mother, gone too soon.
Oh where are you? Are you singing with the hosts?
Are you walking on streets of gold? Have you met your loved ones? Are you resting by the river? Are you finally at peace?
You are finally Home. A Home that is eternal
In your Savior's arms, no more to roam. Stay sweet with the Lord mama.
One day I will see you again.

Loss of Mother Poem

Now that I am gone,
remember me with smiles and laughter.
And if you need to cry,
cry with your brother or sister
who walks in grief beside you.
And when you need me,
put your arms around anyone
and give to them what you need to give to me.
There are so many who need so much.I want
to leave you something --something much better
than words or sounds. Look for me in the people
I've known or helped in some special way.
Let me live in your heart as well as in your mind.
You can love me most by letting your love reach
out to our loved ones,by embracing them and
living in their love. Love does not die, people do.
So, when all that's left of me is love,
give me away as best you can.

~ Author unknown

Terminal Illness- Death and Grief

No one likes to think about illness and death,
when we are well, we feel invincible and there
is nothing that can prepare us for the shock
and devastation of a terminal diagnosis.
The knowledge that we can no longer take our lives
or the lives we share with our loved ones for
granted takes away our ability to plan for the future
and removes hope from our lives. When a loved one
becomes terminally ill, we grieve in anticipation of
their death, we grieve for the loss of them
in our lives and we grieve for our own mortality.

For All That You Have Given Me

For all that you have given me,
I can return but love. For you
Bound up the wounds I did not see
And gave me hopes and passions new.
I can return but love for you,
Whose unmoved faith my heart did move,
And gave me hopes and passions new,
And loved me till I turned to love.
Whose unmoved faith did my heart move?
The mother of my heart, not blood,
Who loved me till I turned to love.
And I became the soul I would.
The mother of my heart, not blood,
Bound up the wounds I did not see.
And I became the soul I would
For all that you have given me.
Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon

Her Life Was Not as Glorious as Some

Her life was not as glorious as some,
Devoted to her children and their children,
Taken up by quiet tedium:
What's left when dreams are scattered to the wind.
She loved too well, perhaps, and fought too hard
To make a marriage work that wasn't right.
She was, of all bright loveliness, a shard
Struck off to bring our lives the gift of light.
There are those whose lives are shaped by love;
Whose pleasures, rich and full, are found in giving;
Who make our wild hearts bloom and passions move
Into measured fields made lush by living.
Without her all the gold's gone from the day;
She will be missed far more than we can say.
Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon